


Piece Of Cake

by malu (orphan_account)



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-10 10:09:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2021073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/malu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Without thinking about it, Jenson wraps an arm around the younger man to hold him up; only then realizing that the sudden closeness, the lingering scent of the familiar aftershave and the soft hair that touches his cheeks when Kevin’s head drops to his shoulder are all too much to bear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lemon Cake

**Author's Note:**

> **Never happened! Just imagination!**  
>  I always meant to make it up to Jenson for making him the bad guy. So this is the one where he is just his sweet old self :)

Jenson almost trips over the slumped bundle in front of his motorhome and while he ungracefully tries to remain upright, his eyes study the heap and after adjusting to the dim light of the late evening, recognize what caused his almost-fall with surprise. “Kevin?”  
The Dane lifts his head slightly, not even looking up to him and a fragile voice answers him, “Yes. Hey, Jenson.”  
“Hey Jenson? What are you doing here? You gotta be freezing, kid!” With a sigh, Jenson gets to his knees, trying to catch the younger man’s gaze and appalled when he manages and finds his eyes reddened as if he just cried. “What’s wrong?”  
“Nothing.” Jenson is close enough now to see the pout on Kevin’s face and sighs. Babysitting is not part of his contract and babysitting a kid that looks adorable when pouting is beyond his capacities. Still, he cannot let him sulk here, possibly freezing to death.  
“Yeah, because sitting around in front of my door in the drizzling rain with temperatures that make it seem like it’s winter already is the most normal thing to do on the evening before a race.” He holds a hand out to Kevin and almost sighs with relief when the Dane takes it and lets himself be pulled from the cold. “Come on, let’s get you inside.” Without thinking about it, Jenson wraps an arm around the younger man to hold him up; only then realizing that the sudden closeness, the lingering scent of the familiar aftershave and the soft hair that touches his cheeks when Kevin’s head drops to his shoulder are all too much to bear. Biting his lower lip and desperately thinking of things that turn him off, Fernando Alonso snogging Mark Webber ranging high on top of the list, he shoves Kevin inside his motorhome, pushing him onto the sofa. “Here, you need to warm up.” He throws a blanket at the younger driver, who shows no signs of emotion or reaction and lets the blanket just fall down next to his body. _This is going to be a long night. Glad the car sucks anyway this year, at least no one will notice whether I am fit or not._ Releasing a deep breath, Jenson walks over to the figure slumped on his couch, gently covering him with the duvet. “Tea?”  
Kevin chuckles dryly and the Brit raises an eyebrow. “It’s just… too much of a cliché, English and tea. As if it cures everything.”  
“Well, it does help against being cold,” Jenson says indignantly and walks to the kitchen, deciding that the kid does not get to choose about this then. It only takes him a couple of minutes, then he returns with a tablet that holds two cups and a plate with some left over lemon cake, putting it down on the narrow table, then sitting down on a low plastic box full of books that is standing across from Kevin. The young man still looks devastated, rugged and chilled to the bone. And in the better light inside his motorhome, Jenson is now quite sure that he has cried. “So,” he blows into his cup carefully, “would you mind enlightening me about what happened?”  
Kevin reaches for his tea now, warming his hands on the mug and staring into it, barring Jenson from studying his eyes. “Max.” _Oh._ Not that Jenson never suspected it. The confirmation still weighs heavy on his mind.  
Taking a deep breath, he asks, “What about Max?”  
“We were-“ Kevin interrupts himself, staring back into his cup.  
“You were seeing each other,” Jenson states, trying hard to sound as casual as possible. Kevin’s head jerks up immediately, eyes widened in shock. “Sorry, kid, but it was kind of obvious.”  
“Oh.” Kevin lowers his gaze again. “I wasn’t aware. He’s seeing Jules now. Well, I guess they’ve been seeing all the time.”  
 _Bastard._ Jenson sighs again, taking a sip of his tea before he replies softly, “In that case, you deserve better.”  
His words make the young man put down his cup, burying his head in his hands and next, Jenson hears quiet sobs and sees him shake. _This is really not part of the contract._ With another sigh, he walks over to the couch, sitting next to Kevin and wrapping an arm around the kid again. Kevin relaxes into his touch immediately, his hair touching Jenson's neck and his smell lingering dangerously close in the Brit's nose. Desperately willing his body not to react to the feeling of the young man cuddling against him, his mind creates more images of Mark and Fernando, engaging in all kinds of repulsing activities. _Long night. Way too long._


	2. Crumbs

Jenson does not even remember the last time he felt that uncomfortable, sitting on his own sofa with an armful of crying Dane and biting his lip until it bleeds just so he will not bodily react to the young man. His arm is trembling when he reaches out for Kevin's back, patting it softly. "You can do better than him." Internally, Jenson winces at the cliché phrase. The Dane has cost him all eloquence apparently, reducing him to muttering things that only people in movies say. Against his shoulder, he feels Kevin shake his head. Dammit, the Brit sighs, there is nothing you can say in such a situation. Everybody knows that. And yet, not saying anything is not a solution either, Jenson being desperate to get out of the situation as quickly as possible. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" _Though I really don't want to know._ Another shaking of the younger rider's head. Drawing in a sharp breath, Jenson pulls Kevin closer against his chest, head resting on the Dane's now, holding him tightly. _Alonso is fucking Webber. Alonso is fucking Webber._ The images barely help, Jenson fighting the temptation to nuzzle in Kevin's hair, slip his hands under the damp hoodie, warming the cool skin with his fingers, pressing kisses to the young driver's head. He squeezes his eyes shut, drifting away into this new set of pictures on his mind, imagining the feel of Kevin's ribs und his and muscles under his touch. Inhaling deeply, he savours the other man's smell, dreaming himself away further while grabbing him ever so close, his fingers clenched in Kevin's hoodie. After a while, he notices that the young driver has completely relaxed into his embrace, has stopped shaking and that the sounds of sobbing have been replaced by even breaths. Very even. _Oh no, he hasn't._ "Kevin?" No reply whatsoever. _Shit._  
Jenson cannot bring himself to wake up the other man. Instead, he stays seated there, keeping up the embrace, his mind creating beautiful images where Kevin is his, only his and he absentmindedly licks his bottom lip at the thoughts. Carefully, he reaches over to the plate, eating the last crumbs left, licking his fingers clean after and only slightly appalled at himself when his brain creates the image of a young Dane doing it for him. They cannot stay like this all night though. On the other hand, there is no way he is waking the kid now. And it has become kind of late, kind of futile to call a taxi for the hotel. Better they just stay here. Though not in each other's arms, because that will make himself painfully aroused if he does not get his mind to shed those images. Jenson sighs deeply again, disentangling him from the smaller man and the blanket carefully. Except from a small sniff, the Dane does not react to it at all, sleeping through everything Jenson does until the Brit has him lying on the sofa, pillow under his head and gently covered with sheets. With a fond smile, Jenson admires his work, eyes resting on the small man that looks nothing like a man right now. Instead, it seems that there is a teenager asleep on his couch, eyes closed, expression relaxed but cheeks still tearstained and flushed. Even like that he is still gorgeous. Jenson pulls an armchair over, getting it to stand across from the young man and he sinks down in it, his eyes still awing the Dane. Leaning back into his chair, his feet propped up on the narrow coffee table, Jenson watches, convinced he will not find a single second of sleep that night. However, the look is well worth it, he decides. If he cannot have the Dane, it does not mean he cannot dream. And it does not mean he cannot savour this, trying to conserve the image for the times when the young man is gone, off to find a new fish in the pond, someone young, careless, without the heavy baggage Jenson is carrying around. Then, after a while, watching the regular lifting of Kevin's chest and listening to his even breaths becomes so hypnotizing, that Jenson drifts away despite - or possibly because of - the inconvenient situation. And there is a definite smile on his lips while he does.


	3. Coffee

Jenson wakes up in pain, every muscle in his body complaining about his unorthodox sleeping position. The first rays of sun are creeping through the window and after an instant of disorientation, he remembers. _Everything._ Sitting there, not daring to move because he does not want to wake up the young man on his couch, still peacefully asleep with the innocent face of a complete child, Jenson remembers all the details, the smell of Kevin's hair, the warmth of his body pressed against the Brit's, the sound of his broken voice. Every fibre in Jenson's body wants to wrap around Kevin, lose himself in the Dane and let himself be swallowed by the feeling of having him to himself. At the same time, a threatening voice in the back of his head reminds him that he would never forgive himself for taking advantage, reminds him that Kevin is vulnerable and fragile and likely only confused and not really interested in some outdated British midfield driver. Releasing a deep breath and stretching his legs, he notices Kevin stir and watches with amazement and fondness how the Dane's eyes open slowly, his face full of confusion and then, with memory kicking back in, blushing into a beautiful shade of pink. Jenson has to bite his lip to suppress his desire now, Kevin looking gorgeously ruffled. "Hi there," he says softly, hoping not to shock the young man further as he obviously feels horrible enough about having crashed on that couch already.   
"I am so sorry," Kevin mumbles, his voice still croaky. Jenson finds it adorable.  
"Don't be. Would you like a coffee?" He asks casually and the nonchalance has its effect, Kevin nodding slowly and sitting up, still blushed but no longer looking like a gazelle that is staring at a lion.   
Still smiling, Jenson goes to the small kitchen, getting them two mugs of coffee and when he returns, Kevin is sitting on the sofa and almost looks like his usual self again, only his hair is still a mess and there is a hint of redness left in his eyes.  
"So, do you want to talk?" Jenson asks, thinking that maybe the casual tone will work again, loosening up Kevin a bit.  
"There is not much to say," the Dane whispers into his mug, eyes fixing the ground now. "I was dumb and I made an idiot of myself. Why should anyone ever pick me over Jules?"  
"I would." And Jenson feels his own face turn bright red the second the words leave his mouth.  
There is a moment of silence that feels like an eternity of awkwardness to the older driver, before Kevin raises his head, eyes full of surprise and searching his face now. " _You?_ "   
Kevin says it with such bewilderment that Jenson just wants the ground to swallow him. "Sorry. That was inappropriate. I-" Jenson swallows, searching for words desperately, "I wanted... oh, just forget that I said that." And he flees into the bathroom, of his own motorhome, well aware of the cowardice and the ridiculousness of the scene, waiting for the sound of the door closing. Only after he has heard the familiar bang, he goes back to the living room, slumping on the couch right where Kevin did the same only a few hours ago, head buried in his hands and knowing that he really messed that up.


	4. & Cream

Jenson hides from Kevin as good as he can. He is very angry at himself for his slip, knowing that it cost him a good friend. Certainly, this scared away the kid. It is slightly creepy after all, when a much older driver comes up with that kind of allusion. Who knows what Kevin thinks he wants from him. In the end, Jenson has not even figured out what he wants from the young Dane. All he knows is that his heart beats faster when the kid is around and that inappropriate thoughts pop up in his head when they get too close to each other. _That does not have to mean anything, right?_ And he is not even kidding himself with this, knowing deep down that he has fallen head over heels for a gorgeous young man. That happens to be an excellent driver. His teammate. Also, way too young. He has not been this side-tracked on a racing day for a while, often his crew has to repeat questions and orders, he is standing in their way, bumping into them, feeling lost. Kevin is always on his radar, the Brit trying hard to avoid the Dane. Today, it does not matter that it ends up a mediocre race for both of them, all that matters is for Jenson to get away, quickly. So he does. However, the thought of Kevin, images of the young man on his couch, memories of his touch, will not leave him alone, not even during their days off. In fact, he wakes up with pictures of Kevin in his head and goes to sleep with the sound of Kevin's voice in his ears and slowly but certainly, it is driving him insane. It even makes him dread the next race weekend, something that would have been beyond his imagination some weeks ago.  
Thursday starts like the last race day finished, with Jenson hiding from Kevin. It is not an easy task this time, because it seems the young man is trying to be close to him - something that is unbearable for Jenson at the moment. He feels incapable of being so close to his temptation without being allowed to give in. Finally, the night comes and he is sprawled out on his bed, wearing jeans only and with sweat still covering his body, when someone knocks on his door. "Who is it?"  
"It's Kevin. Let me in, please."  
Jenson sighs and wishes the young man was not so kind. He cannot send him away, that would be too rude. With somewhat shaky legs, he gets up and opens the door, finding Kevin holding a tray with scones and cream. Jenson cannot help smiling at the sight, it is just too cute. "What did I do to deserve that?" His voice is trembling only a little and he is proud of that fact.  
"I don't know. It's a bit of a thank you for being there for me and maybe an apology." Kevin stares at the ground now, but Jenson can still see him blush.   
"Come in, mate," He pulls Kevin into the room and locks the door behind them. "And apology? What's that about?" He takes the tray from the Dane, putting it onto the desk and then sits down on the bed, his back against the headbord. He makes an inviting gesture to Kevin, who hesitates at first but then sits down as far away as possible from him, timidly, on the edge of the mattress. And he is staring at the ground again.  
"You were so weird after... well... _that_ night. I don't know what I did but I must have done something to offend you."  
Jenson cringes. The last thing he wanted was for Kevin to be this upset and his behaviour obviously had worried the young man to no ends. "Not at all. Really. It's just the other way around. I should never have said _that_ and I don't know how to look you in the eye now because it was so stupid."  
Kevin's head jerks up now, eyes widened. "You meant that?"  
"What?" Jenson feels pierced by the Dane's eyes and it makes his stomach twist.  
"You meant you'd really pick me?" Jenson has to focus on listening very hard now, Kevin barely whispering.  
"I don't know." He feels his cheeks up. "Do you want-" Jenson cannot finish this now, his heart is thundering, his pulse racing and he is in cold sweat from nervousness, dreading the moment he puts his cards on the table because then he could lose everything. He swallows and takes a deep breath, Kevin's eyes still piercing him expectantly. "Do you want me to mean it?"  
Kevin nods slowly and Jenson cannot believe it at first, until he sees that tentative smile forming around the Dane's lips.   
"Well, yeah, I would pick you. Not just over Jules. Over anybody." And the second he says it, Jenson realizes how much he means it and his heart is threatening to explode in his chest now, while he sees Kevin shuffle on the bed, crawling over to him to settle on his legs, straddling them. Their faces are right in front of each other now and Jenson can feel the Dane's hot breath and smell the mixture of shampoo and oil that radiates around him. Kevin searches his eyes again before his fingers reach out to cup Jenson's face, sending shivers down the Brit's face and then, the young man is suddenly beaming at him, brighter than he has ever seen before and it makes Jenson's heart jump. "I never, never, never thought I'd have a chance with you. I can't believe you said that. And yeah, I'd pick you over anyone, too. And I want to pinch myself right now to be sure this is true. But actually," Jenson hears Kevin inhale sharply, his mind still processing the Dane's words, "actually, I have a better idea than pinching." Jenson has no time to grasp completely what is happening right now, because Kevin wraps his arms around him, pressing them close and then Kevin's lips are on his. There is an instant where Jenson is too shocked to respond, but then he returns the kiss passionately, grinning into it and draping his arms around the young man. _I'm never letting go again._


End file.
